phoning home

"You're always looking over your shoulder."

Minoth shrugged. "Someone has to. You certainly don't."

"Well, but that's because you're always there behind me."

So satisfied was Addam with his neat turn of logic that he nearly missed the weighty, significant glance Minoth threw him in response.

Truly, no respite? Was Addam's routine so privileged, that he never once had to suspect disturbance from the rear?

And he, even in attempt to be grave rather than carefree, was far from the most perceptive among them. It just went to show.

"And if you were to walk in front?"

"I'd keep looking."

"And he's not concerned with Amalthus finding him?"

"No...why would he be?"

Lora couldn't help it - she rolled her eyes, just the slightest bit. Of all the answers she expected, that wasn't one.

"Because Amalthus is his Driver! And he's clearly a highly skilled Blade. If Amalthus is the kind of man who would treat a Blade like that, I'm pretty sure he's the kind of man who wants to keep tabs on his...property."

"That's very astute of you, Lora," mused Addam, eyes groundward. "You really think so?"

"Addam... I don't need your compliments. But maybe Minoth does."

Oh, but why are you here? What of your heraldry, your calling card?

Of course Minoth just brushed it off. So casual. So unflappable. So calm. So cool. Because I wanted to. Because I could. Because I heard a rumor. Because I was curious.

How do you say, I've been alone all my life; the friends I had, I didn't know it, and the friends I thought I had, weren't.

How do you say, please don't pin me with him, don't resolve me to that only, lonely other world.

How do you say, Architect, there is nowhere else but here?